


THE PRISONER

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Challenge Response, Drama, Gen, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-12
Updated: 2000-02-12
Packaged: 2018-11-10 06:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11122149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ray Vecchio has one of those days.  This pays homage to The Prisoner.





	THE PRISONER

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Title: The Prisoner

Author: Anna McLain

Rating: G

Genre: None

Category: Challenge: Ten challenge, see end of story for details. 

Pairings: None

Spoilers: None

Teaser: Ray V has one of those days.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters contained within. I will earn no money from this. Archiving okay for RSY, DuSC, Amber, and FLif you want it. Sorry, no plot intended.

Author's notes are at the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

** **

The Prisoner

By Anna McLain

 

 

****

R

ay  
awoke. His mouth was dry, temples pounding, his body distinctly chilled.  
Every tiny hair on his skin vibrated in an uncomfortably cool breeze.  
He opened his eyes gently, squinting against the pain of sudden expected  
brightness. It didn't come. The room was dim.

Even in the low light, he could tell he was surrounded by baby blue. He widened his eyes and looked all around. Shadowed baby blue. He sighed heavily and tried to rub his temples, only to find himself restrained. Raising his head, he saw only his body, bare but for his silk boxers and a pair of purple tennis shoes. So, why couldn't he move?

He let his head flop back and began to laugh. He was nuts. He had to be. The last memory he had was of walking into an empty warehouse in search of a stinking perp and a mosquito biting the side of his neck. The world went dark and here he was.

His thoughts moved like brackish slimy water, stagnating before they solidified. Thinking made his head pound.

A scraping sound made him turn his head, craning his neck to see. Above and to the right was a dark form, seated and shadowy in the dimness.

"I'm Detective Ray Vecchio, Chicago PD. Let me go or you'll be sorry, Pal!" 

The figure crossed its legs and lit a cigarette, taking a long slow drag.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Ray demanded. "Tell me or I'll..."

"What?" said a male voice, almost gentle in its softness.

"I'll knock you into next week!" Ray thought he might have imagined the figure's smile. He couldn't really see the man's face, couldn't actually tell if it was a man at all. Damn, they needed to turn on some lights. Suddenly, he was afraid. Maybe lights weren't such a good idea. "Answer me!" he shouted. "Where are the walls and ceiling? Where the Hell am I? Who are you?"

Silence.

Only the sound of the other's soft exhalation and the cloying scent of curling wisps of smoke answered his questions.

The silence frightened him. Had aliens captured him? Ray's temples throbbed. The room, if it was a room, blurred before his eyes. "Answer me," was his whispered plea.

He closed his eyes.

~~~

****

S

omeone  
grabbed his arm, yanking him forward.

"Hurry!" she ordered.

"What? Franny?" Ray said.

"He's getting away!"

"Who?" Ray spun her to face him. His little sister rolled her eyes at him, running a finger over her fake red mustache.

"Who? Are you blind? Him!" She motioned down the wet Toronto street. 

"The chimp? We're chasing a chimp?"

Franny pulled him along. "Of course, moron, he was trained to steal and he took that pack of Tic Tacs."

"So maybe he needs them. Let him go. And where the Hell are we?"

"We can't let him go. Huey, Dewey and Louie will catch him first."

"Donald Duck's nephews?"

"You know how they are."

He followed her down the street, slipping on the wet sidewalk.

~~~

****

R

ay  
opened his eyes. Blue. His surroundings were blurry in their dimness.  
He must have fallen asleep.

Then, he remembered and looked for his captor. The shape was still there, though it looked a little different. He frowned.

"Lt. Welsh? Is that...get me outta here!"

"In due time," the Lieutenant's voice said, oddly soft and gentle. "Where were you?"

Ray shook his head. "With Franny, only...she had a mustache, and we were chasing some chimp who stole a stupid pack of breath mints."

"Do you do this often?"

"Why would I?"

"What do you normally do?"

"What? I...I don't remember. Look, things are getting all fuzzy. Can't you let me go?" his voice had a plaintive note to it.

"Sleep," said Lt. Welsh and took a long drag on his cigarette.

Ray fought but his eyes closed.

~~

****

I

cy  
water splashed over his fingers. He looked down. He had a death grip  
on the metal edge of the canoe. A fast current swept them along between  
the ice floes. Franny sat in front of him.

He tapped her shoulder. "Franny, I'm confused."

She turned. And another woman faced him. He sat back, startled. This wasn't Franny. She had Franny's hair, but her dark eyes were intelligent and stern. "Of course you are. If you insist on moving quickly you'll spill us all into the Sound," she snapped.

"Sorry. Where's Franny?" Ray stared. He felt he should know this woman, but could not remember her.

"Never heard of her." The woman slapped the man in front of her on the arm. He turned with a wide, goofy smile, continuing to row. "Renfield, let's have an inspirational rowing song."

The man nodded and burst into a hearty version of, 'God Save the Queen.'

They passed a small bobbing ice floe. Ray saw the chimpanzee, slowly feeding orange Tic Tacs to both a man in blue jeans and a big hat, and a white dog. They seemed familiar, but he was tired. Fuzzy and tired. 

~~~

****

H

e  
opened his eyes and swam up through the fog swirling in his brain. Nearby  
something crunched. Not again, he thought. He sniffed.

"What is...I smell butterscotch candy. I thought...don't you smoke?"

"I'm trying to quit." The voice was vaguely feminine, and familiar.

"Elaine?"

"If you like."

"Who are you?"

"Elvis."

"Elvis is dead."

"So you've been led to believe."

Ray turned his head, craning his neck to see over his shoulder to the right. The figure did, indeed, look a bit like Elvis. "I'm crazy."

"Things aren't always what they seem."

"I've really lost it."

"Who has?"

"Me!"

"Who are you?"

"I'm..." He struggled to remember. Somehow, his entire memory was lost in the fog. "I'm...I don't know." Fear clenched at his chest.

"Mmm."

"Who are you?"

"Number one."

Confused, he frowned. "And who do you think I am I?"

"Number two."

"What? I am not a number!" 

Silence. He searched frantically through the shreds of his memory.

Nothing. "Who am I?"

"Number two."

He thought for a long moment, thoroughly confused. "I'm a pile of poo..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finis. All comments and feedback welcomed at 

sgmiii@aol.com

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The exact challenge description follows. This story was intended to pay homage to the '60's tv show, The Prisoner. More about that in a moment. To answer the most common questions I've been asked...

The numbers at the end represent Ray's loss of identity due to his abduction, you decide by whom, and by whatever it is they're doing to him to cause his hallucinations/dreams. 

The last line refers to the saying in the US for that Number one is for pee, two for poo. 

The show The Prisoner was about a man who was imprisoned in a strange village whose identity was replaced by the number Six. He was constantly interrogated in bizarre ways and always tried to escape. It was alluded to that he was once a spy or some sort of government/law enforcement operative. The show was usually a little confusing and sometimes incomprehensible. 

Hopefully, this helps with the story. Thanks for your time!

Peace,

Anna

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THE TEN CHALLENGE! (found on a Star Trek list and modified only where

direct names are concerned...)

Write a story containing:

1\. A canoe

2\. Purple tennis shoes

3\. A trained chimpanzee

4\. Butterscotch candy

5\. A sighting of Elvis

6\. A character singing

7\. Theft of an item worth less than $2

8\. Mistaken identity

9\. A false mustache on a woman

10: At least 10 canon characters

But not containing:

1: Sex or sexual innuendo

2: Handcuffs

3: Mention of the Canadian Consulate 

4: More than one non-canon character

5: Any type of uniform

6: A car

7: More than two references to episodes

8: The squadroom 

9: The words "yes" or "no"

10: The written or spoken number 10

It is limited to ten pages, and may be no shorter than ten paragraphs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


End file.
